


If Only It Where This Straightforward (Pardon The Pun)

by TheColdEastWind



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes/John Watson - Fandom, johnlock - Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, IV drug use implied, M/M, Oral Sex, Physical Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 10:27:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9067693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheColdEastWind/pseuds/TheColdEastWind
Summary: AU, in which John and Sherlock meet at St.Barts under different circumstances, with the same outcome, with less bullshit in between. Okay, there's still some bullshit. Also and most important, this work was written for the beautifully talented WhatLocked.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhatLocked](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatLocked/gifts).



"John please?! Your so good with the wired ones and this bloke is being a pain in the ass."  
John was all set to walk out the door, jacket in hand and backpack over his shoulder, he was tired of Bart's he'd just come off a 36 hour stent and was ready to escape, but Sarah, was his friend, actually they had tried dating and John had realized at that point that woman where just no longer his cup of tea, not that Sarah wasn't a lovely woman she was and it wasn't as if John had flipped some switch and his whole sexuality had changed. No it had always been a part of who he was and as he'd gotten older he realized he wanted to live his whole life, and stop denying part of who he was. Sarah, had not only been understanding but that's when their friendship had truly began, that being said, how bad could one extra patient be?  
John didn't need to ask which room he was needed in, he could hear the voices from without, and though not loud they where clearly agitated. He pulled back the curtain and was greeted by the sight of a tall angular fellow, who though disheveled and badly bruised was still some how elegant and well...beautiful leaning his back against the bed, legs crossed at the ankle arms folded across his narrow chest, sporting a look of exasperation and discuss to top it all off.  
"I want it back now." Said the well dressed gent, to the nurse who looked as if she where nearing the end of her rope.  
"And I told you that's not going to happen Mr. Holmes."  
John poked his head in and asked, "Can I be of some help?"  
The look John was given was more like a critical scan from head to toe, the cool aqua eyes made more pronounced by the dark purple and blue bruising around both eyes, accessed him and found him wanting.  
"Doubtful."  
"A challenge then? Nurse what seems to be the trouble?"  
"Mr. Holmes, wants his coat, and I told him that wouldn't be possible at this time."  
"Get the man his coat."  
"But Dr. Watson.."  
"Now." The single word was spoken with enough steel that the nurse knew from experience to do as she'd been told.  
"Yes Doctor." And with that she was gone leaving doctor and patient alone to get aquanted.  
"Better?" John asked with a bright winning smile.  
"Marginally." John had to laughed at the lovely mans sarcasm.  
Sherlock was taken aback by the doctors crisp throaty laughter, one because it was so unexpected and two because of the warm thrill it evoked in his chest. He found himself caught in a wave of ocean blue and warmed by a sun bright smile. Sherlock, smiled wide and genuine, and extended his hand.  
"Sherlock Holmes." John, beamed up at his patient and took the hand that was offered. Both of them holding on more then a little longer then was necessary. John couldn't help but breath a small laugh.  
"Funny?"  
"Just. You."  
"I fail to see the humor." Curious, but not offended.  
"Well you would have to see things from my perspective."  
"Which is what exactly?"  
"It's just how can one be so battered and bruised and still hauntingly beautiful and distanful all at once." The words where out before John had a chance to filter his thoughts into something less revealing. "I'm sorry that was...inappropriate."  
"Nice." They spoke over one another. Seemingly lost in the other's eyes, content to just smile and gaze for the rest of time.  
"Yes, nice." John said still smiling. "I'm sorry. Where are my manners. Dr. John Watson."  
"Dr. John H. Watson. Army doctor, in fact."  
"How.…how did you know that?"  
"I didn't know. I saw. RAMC tattoo on your forearm, and on your far less attractive bag. Your hair cut, and your commanding manner all say military." Sherlock startled himself with his flirtatious behavior but didn't back away from it, because somewhere a spell had been cast, and he and the good doctor where quite irrevocably…bound. This was new and Sherlock was intrigued.  
"You're astounding. That. That was astounding." John found that he was smiling and flushed. What the hell was this about? Yes the man was pretty and sardonically funny and so very brilliant and…oh hell seriously John pull yourself together and do your damn job. "So. May I touch you? Examine you Mr. Holmes?" John dropped his head a bit closed his eyes and shook his head briefly, yet still could not suppress the smile that seemed to be his natural state now or at least in the presence of this man.  
"Sherlock, please. And yes you may touch me. As well as examine me." No less suggestive then the first quip. John found his wits with great difficulty suppressed his school boy smile and was once again Dr. John Watson.  
"Up on the bed please." John was commanding now and Sherlock could see why the nurse had not argued when he'd given her an order clearly the soldier in him was still very much in charge. 'All the girls love a soldier. ' "Can you tell me what happened?" John asked as he put a light to Sherlocks right eyes and then his left watching carefully for dilation as he did so.  
"A fall." No other explanation was forthcoming. John gave him a look that said plan and simple, 'bullshit.'  
"Odd that, you don't come across as clumsy." More cat like John thought as he moved to put his hands in Sherlocks curls to feel for any cuts or bumps. This was a mistake of sorts for both of them.  
"Sssshahh." The feeling that shot through Sherlocks body was indescribable, but if he had to give it voice it felt like his blood had been replaced by 35 year old scotch. Intoxicating. Languid warmth uncoiled from his chest and began to creep along his limbs. What in the name of science was happening to him?  
"Pain?" John stopped instantly and searched Sherlocks eyes, his concern written clearly on his face. But not the concern of a Doctor for his patient, this was protective more like panic. The hands that had been probing Sherlocks scalp where now resting on his jawline much the way one dose to a lover. Sherlock couldn't help but reach for Johns wrist, wrapping cool long fingers around his warm skin. John felt his stomach clench as if the floor had just dropped from beneath his feet. They stayed locked this way, the air thickly charged between them, their eyes soft and full of the soul they held in them and they knew. As absolutely insane as it was...they knew.  
"Sherlock."  
"Yes Jawn?"  
"I…I think you may need overnight observation."  
"Oh. Oh, well no." Sherlock had to mentally shake himself in order to understand what John was saying and for god sake break contact with the mans sinfully warm skin. Good lord. Was the man made of sunlight?  
"What do you mean no?"  
"I can't stay in hospital. I'm checking myself out."  
"No. I believe you have a grade 2 concussion and you need at least overnight observation."  
"Then observe me if you like, but do it at my flat, because I'm not staying here. You can't keep me." John gave him a look that said otherwise.  
"Sherlock, that's a horrible idea for a million different reasons."  
"No it's not. It makes perfect sense. You want to observe me and I want to leave. Two birds as they say."  
"Horrible. Can't even begin to tell you the multitude of reasons that won't work."  
"Shall I catalog your supposed reasons for you then?"  
John, folded his arms and took a step back and nodded his head as if to say 'go on then.'  
"Fine. Your already off the clock, in fact you have the next two days off. So why are you sending so much time on me? Because you want to. Why would you want to? You don't know me. Irrelevant. You find me attractive. So then getting to know me should be your objective. Doctors and patients shouldn't be intimate. I won't be a patient because I'm checking myself out. You could lose your job. Wrong. You're one of the best doctors here and they bend over backwards for you and would never risk losing you. So. Will you be observing me then Dr. Watson?"  
John was putting up a fight, but in truth it was really just for appearance sake. He wanted nothing more then to spend the next 48 hours alone with this man, caring for him seeing to his needs...John was realizing that 48 hours wasn't nearly enough.  
He did have the next couple of days off, and to be honest he had nothing on, but being privet physician to an absolute stranger, albeit a beautiful one had not been his plan. Was he really a stranger though? Something had passed between them that was unlike anything John had ever known warm and sweet, easy and welcoming, innocent and passionate plus the man had been right about everything, despite his better judgment there was something in those blue-green gold-aqua eyes and that lovely cheeky mouth of his that couldn't be denied. Damn it.  
"Your way then." Sherlock smiled at John both wicked and sweet. "Just let me find that nurse with your coat and we'll be off yeah."  
Sherlock sat there feeling an odd warm calm...John H Watson. Tonight back at his flat maybe by the fireplace he would find out what the "H" was. The feeling of warmth spread as did Sherlocks smile.  
"Willy. I've found you." A nasal voice brought Sherlock sharply back into the cold. He closed his eyes knowing the dream was shattered.  
"Sebastian, what are you doing here?" Sherlock was a little frantic not wanting John and Sab, to cross paths. Some how knowing that that chemistry would be a volatile one, not at all like delicate ballet that had passed between he and John.  
"Knew you would run to that stupid bitch Molly, and play the victim. You didn't tell her it was that mouth of yours that caused it all. Did you? She told me you where brought up here by some Yarder, what the hell is that all about? You didn't say anything about me did you Willy?"  
"No Seb. There was a DI down to see Molls, and he asked me what happen to me. I wouldn't tell him, so he said I could either go up to A&E or he would arrest me." Sherlock felt his heart fall, and a soul deep sadness over take him. This was his life. He never should have entertained the thought of living in the sun. Stupid Sherlock.  
"Good boy. Now I've brought candy." He pulled a syringe from his inside coat pocket, and gave a nasty smile.  
"I don't want that Seb." Sherlock could feel bile rise up in his throat.  
"Well if you keep acting up then I maybe forced to give it to you as I did those lovely eyes of yours. Which is a shame really, you do have lovely eyes. Now let's get out of this place. I want to go play." Sherlock cast a sad glance over his shoulder hopeful of one more glimpse of the sun, or a peek of the ocean, before the cold gray of his world came down around him again.

 

~~~

 

John walked home carrying the heavy wool coat over his arm. His brow furrowed so deep in thought he almost walked in front of a double decker twice. Where had he gone? Why had he left? Was it all a ruse? But why? No. No, that wasn't the answer. What happened with Sherlock, had not been false. It had been more. Very much more. And it hadn't felt like something either one of them was in a rush to walk away from. In fact it was the exact opposite. They seemed to be rushing toward each other in a fit of reckless abandon. And the lack of it left John feeling that some vital part of himself was missing. And he wanted it back. Now. John didn't want to use hospital records to track the man down, and that would be a last resort. But as his doctor he had the right to follow up on his condition. John stewed for three days over the efficiency of his decision to look at the mans records. And they where the worst three days he'd had in recant memory. John had been in his far share of relationships both meaningful ones and others that had been base and empty. He had loved and been loved, heartlessly slept around and had fun. But nothing had held a candle to the hour he had spent with Sherlock Holmes. The thread of Sherlock pulled at Johns heart. Sod this. He would just have to go to 221b Baker St. and see how things played out.

 

~~~

 

Sebastian, was a right bastard to Sherlock. Cruel and nasty. It was his way, it was what he liked. Sherlock sat in the bath after he had gone grateful that Sebastian was as small of cock as he was of mind. Sitting in the surrounding warmth his thoughts turned to John H. Watson, the army doctor. He felt a wash of comfort at the thought of the man. Their time together had been far too short, but it had left Sherlock both full with the memory of the dream and empty at having it taken away. Sherlock wasn't pron to flights of fancy and emotion was almost never his area. So the pull of John Watson was all the more in enthralling for it. But it was a mute point now wasn't it? He was with Seb, well not really with. It was more like stuck. His relationship with Sebastian, was one of complete dysfunction, and was born of Sherlocks drug use and had evolved into this ugly give and take that only made the whole thing worse. Once sex had become part of their dynamic so had violence. Seb, seemed to find any reason to lash out at Sherlock when he was high and too incoherent to fight back. Over the past six months Sherlock had been trying to get himself clean so that he could send more time at St. Bart's. Molly wouldn't allow him there if he where high and with her now dating a DI from Scotland Yard, it was doubly important that he get his act together. None of this had sat well with Sebastian, and the abuse had become more frequent. Sherlock didn't really care though, his body was not all that important to him and as long as his mind was unscathed that was all that mattered. But Dr. Watson hands on him had made him see his body in a whole new light. His nerve endings seem to have been asleep until they'd been awakened by strong gentle precise healing hands. Stop being foolish, Sherlock, admonished himself and slipped under the water from head to toe.

 

~~~

 

"Sherlock, Sherlock, you have a visitor." Mrs. Hudson called up. "Sherlock!"  
"Fine, Mrs. Hudson, fine, send them up." He called back down to her in his agitated fashion.  
"Hello Sherlock."  
"John" Sherlock jumped from behind his microscope, and rushed toward John smiling and had to stop short to keep from throwing his arms around him, coming to stand far too close in Johns personal space. John took a step closer still and looked up into the face he hadn't realized he missed quit so very much. They smiled like fools in love for long seconds, Sherlock was the fist to break the silence.  
"John"  
"Yes?"  
"Why are you here? Not that...it's just...your here."  
"Honestly?"  
"Obviously, I want you to be honest."  
"Well the truth is, I've given it some though and I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you. And...you with me."  
"John...”Sherlock just trailed off lost for words. He wanted to tell John that he was being a foolish romantic, and no one falls in love after spending an hour with a stranger. Or do they? Of all the subjects in the world that Sherlock was knowledgeable of love and how it worked was most certainly not one of them. Was this so far fetched an idea then? He needed more data. Johns voice broke his thoughts.  
"I have a theory I'd like to test." Sherlock was drawn in by the idea of John having a theory.  
"Well I'm nothing if not a man of science."  
“I was hoping you'd say something like that." John reached up and placed his hand on the long column of Sherlocks neck. He leaned into the touch. His lips parted and as he sucked in a rush of breath, he felt like he was falling, or floating or something, he just closed his eyes and reviled in the feel of Johns heat.  
"Do you feel that?" John asked little more then a whisper by the shell of his ear as he stroked his thumb across Sherlocks Adam's apples, all Sherlock, could do was hum and nod in reply. John ran that same hand up the back of his neck and into his curls.  
"Now come to me." John was already so close that the distance Sherlock had to travel was minuscule and some how cavernous all at once. So many things happened in that moment. Doubt shattered, the world fell away, and for the fist time in Sherlocks 30 years, his mind went blissfully silent. This wasn't love. This was poetry. The kiss was deep and slow full of soft heat, it made Sherlock want to cry when John pulled away.  
"John, we shouldn't, I'm with someone."  
"That doesn't matter. He's not the man for you. I am."  
"This is...by definition: insane."  
“I know."  
"And yet?"  
"Dose what you have with him feel like this?" John pulled Sherlock back down into a kiss that was nothing like the first. This was not sweet and tentative, this was a demonstration of what could be. Both Johns hands now dug into Sherlocks curls tugging slightly guiding him where John wanted him next. "Do you want me to go? Leave you to your life with this other man?" John spoke between kissing a hot path down Sherlocks jawline, down his neck, back up behind his ear. "Tell me to leave."  
"Never."  
"So?" John slowly brought the kiss to an end and looped his arms around Sherlocks narrow waist, who took the cue and draped his long limbs over Johns sturdy shoulders.  
"Dr. Watson I do believe your theory bears some merit. Shall we decuss it over maybe say dinner?"  
"Starving."  
They ordered their first Thai, take away and talked the night through. Nothing was off limits. Mycroft, Harry, Afghanistan, drug use, PTSD, nightmares, and Sebastian, they covered it all. And by daylight where even more certain then before, that this was as it should be.  
"I should go." John stood pulling Sherlock up with him. And they did their now customary gaze into each other's eyes with foolish smiles.  
"This is a thing now." John rested one hand in the middle of Sherlocks chest, the other was twined with long elegant fingers.  
"It would seem so."  
"I should go."  
"You should stay."  
"Don't tempt me."  
"I'm I not tempting enough as it is?"  
"You have no idea." John moved his hand up to Sherlocks neck, ending their time together as it had began with a deep slow kiss, that felt like more. John broke away with difficulty. "I'll text you when my shift is over yeah." John backed away, gathered his things and headed for the door. "By the way, I left your coat down stairs." And he was gone.

 

Sherlock didn't know what to do with himself, he was brimming with emotion. Emotion! On the one hand he wanted to sit down and catalog and analyze every detail of the past 15 hours. But on the other hand he wanted to run full tilt to Bart's and tell Molly, all about John Hamish Watson. But neither of the two was to be. Not five minutes after Johns departure did Sebastian, come storming in. Sherlock couldn't help be think that the timing was so close that he and John must have literally passed each other on the street.  
Sherlock wasn't afraid of Seb, never had been, so that's probably why he didn't sense the danger he was in until it was too late. He knew Seb, was pron to lashing out and had expected no less.  
"You fuckin twat! What hell have you done?" Sebastian loomed over Sherlock, where he had retaken a seat on the sofa.  
"You'll have to be more specific then that Seb, I've done a lot."  
"You told that brother of yours about me! Didn't you? You fuckin shit!"  
"I haven't told Mycroft a thing, but I'm sure the fact that I've been in hospital was brought to his attention. I am after all his little brother." Sherlock got up from the sofa, not liking the advantage Seb had over him in this position but it was too late.  
"You fuckin cock!" He was totally unprepared when Seb, grabbed him by the collar and he was shoved backwards down seventeen steps.

 

~~~

 

"Wow, someone really doesn't like that fellow what was his name? The one I begged you deal with last week." Sarah, said to John as she came into the break room.  
"What? What are you on about?" John felt the hair on the back of his neck stand as Sarah, continued to speak.  
"He's back, just now and bad too from the looks of it. John what's wrong?"  
John felt the color drain from his face, and his breath shallow.  
"Sherlock, his name is Sherlock, and we're dating...well yeah. Who brought him in? Where is he?" John asked as he left the break room and moved down the hall.  
"I brought him in Dr. Watson. Mycroft Holmes. But you already know that don't you." It was not a question, but a statement of fact  
"Yes I do, but we'll have to walk and talk because I need to get to your brother."  
"You're awfully concerned, awfully quickly."  
"Your brother is an extraordinary man, and invokes extraordinary feelings. Now please, wait here while I have a look at him."  
John walked into a room full of people rushing to and fro, around a bloody and semi conscious Sherlock. He hadn't expected the wave of nausea that hit him and had to physically brace himself.  
"Nurse oxygen and I need his vitals, and someone get him cleaned up so I can't see where all this blood is coming from!" Barked the doctor in charge.  
"Dr. Shelby, I know this man."  
"Good for you Watson."  
"I'd like to assist. Please." John tried to sound calm, when his insides where churning.  
"Too many cocks in the hen house Watson. I've got this."  
"I'll just stay if you need me then." His voice broke.  
That's when Dr. Shelby, paused to give John a look.  
"Stay out of my way and I'll give you a running tab of his injuries. Interfere and I'll put you out like any other worried boyfriend." John gave a curt nod, clasped his hands behind his back and took a step away from the action.

 

Dislocated right shoulder, grade 3 concussion with lose of consciousness, lacerations to jaw, and above right eye, possible fractured vertebrae.

John, read the chart over and over torn between worry and rage.He didn't need to be as clever as Sherlock to know that Sebastian had done this.  
"So Dr. Watson." Mycroft stood in the doorway watching John at the foot of Sherlocks bed.  
"I need to find Sebastian Wilkes."  
"Do you think that's best?"  
"For him no. And it's Captain Watson."  
"Oh it's so much more then Captain, but I think that's a discussion for another time." John gave him a look that said that time would never come.  
"So can you point me in the direction of him or not?"  
"I can do far better then that Dr. Watson, I can have you at his door step within the hour."  
"Do it."

 

John, stepped out of the black sudan and took a calming breath. He just wanted to talk to the man. Let him know that whatever it was he thought he had with Sherlock was over in no uncertain terms. Good. Yeah, good.  
"Can I help you?" John accessed the man that answered the door, he was about the same height as Sherlock but of a thicker build, not that he was fit, no, just a layer of sedentary fat that comes with an over indulgent lifestyle. John couldn't help but smirk a bit, knowing that if for whatever reason things did get physical his own thick Rugby, build ( as he still played on St. Bart's team weekly) not to mention his military background would out pace anything this man could throw at him.  
"John Watson."  
"Is that name supposed to mean something to me?"  
"No. But it will by the time we're done here. I've come to talk about Sherlock..."  
"Did that worthless little fuckboy send you here?"  
John felt his blood rise. Just here to talk, just here to talk.  
"Look I didn't come here to hurt you, although that's what you deserve. I just want to make it perfectly clear that you are to stay away from Sherlock Holmes, if you don't want things to get out of hand for yourself."  
"Hurt me? If I can put that lanky tosser in hospital what chance do you see for yourself little man?" Sebastian actually laughed. Well he started to laugh and was cut short when John cuffed him in his windpipe. Sebastian doubled over in pain only to receive more, when John brought his knee up hard to meet his nose and gave a wicked smile at the satisfying crack of bone and steam of blood like a free flowing tap. John loved it when people underestimated his size it made it all the more enjoyable when he shattered a humerus and saw the look of shocked disbelief in their eyes just before they blacked out. Or the look of awe when he dropped trou. John, squatted, rested his elbows on his knees, laced his fingers and spoke to the man in the fetal position in the foyer.  
"Sherlock Holmes is no longer your concern. He is mine. And I mean that in exactly the you think I do. So let this be the last we meet yeah. Good talk." John patted the man on the shoulder, and rose to leave.

"Jawwwnn." Sherlocks voice both sounded and felt as if he had swollen sand paper.  
"No brother mine. Not John. Or Jawn as you say." Mycroft rolled his eyes. "I never should have put you in Sebastian Wilkins path simply to get information on his illegal practices. I am sorry."  
"Don't be. That path also led me to John. So are you going to tell me that you made Sebastian, disappear?" Sherlock struggled to a sitting position, and gestured for the water by his bed. Mycroft huffed and passed it to him.  
"Oh no, I didn't have the pleasure. Your army doctor had a rather lively conversation with him that resulted in a broken nose." Sherlock gracelessly sent water spewing.  
"I'll kill him!" Sherlock hissed.  
"You misunderstand. It was the good doctor who administered the broken nose." Mycroft was almost gleeful. Sherlock was speechless.  
"And that will be enough of that I think. Visiting hours are over Mr. Holmes."  
"Ears burning Dr. Watson?"  
"Mycroft, just..."  
"Yes, yes, I'm not interested in watching the two of you gaze into each other's eyes for hours. I'll be going. Brother mine. Dr. Watson."  
"Now let me have a look at my patient." John tilted Sherlocks head up gently by his chin, to look at the stitches running alone his jawline lightly tracing the ones nicely concealed in his eyebrow. "Everything looks good. I'll be out of here this afternoon." John caught the look of panic flash in Sherlocks eyes, before he could mask it. "Whoa, what's going on in that big brain of yours?"  
Sherlock thought about lying, but didn't want to.  
"I don't want to go."  
"Sherlock, not only will your brother have his people near by..."  
"Im not concerned with Sebastian. It's you." John looked confused for the briefest of seconds.  
"Oh Love. Don't think for a second I'm not coming home with you."  
Sherlock smiled. "Then what are we waiting for."

~~~

Sherlock stepped out of the shower with a plan and wrapped up in his paper thin dressing gown and nothing else. He had lingered in the shower, letting the hot water soothe his sore muscles, grateful that he was just bruised and not broken as previously thought.  
John sat on the sofa as he came out.  
"I thought I was going to have to came in after you." He cast Sherlock a just this side of devilish smile that did not go unnoticed.  
"Well that was the out come I was hoping for, but...this will do." Sherlock trailed off as he took a seat beside John their faces inches apart, breathing in the heat of the other like intoxicating smoke, both charged with anticipation, practically vibrating with each heart beat. What happened next was unlike anything they were prepared for. They had kissed yes, but this was uninhabited need, as if they would die without the connection. John, stood just enough without breaking the kiss to take off his jacket, he put his knee between Sherlocks thighs that willing parted for him as John ran the flats of his palms inside the warn silk dressing gown around his rib cage, up his back feeling each sinewy muscles undulate under his touch. Sherlock ached his body into John, tilting his head back kissing at Johns Adam's apple and the hollow of his throat as he pressed Sherlock into his hard length. Each new touch was a soul deep affirmation of what they both already knew. Sherlock felt his body response in ways it never had before, as if it where made for Johns touch alone.  
"Off." John leaned down and placed a bite on Sherlocks shoulder as he pushed back his robe, before he stood to undress. Sherlock followed him and let the navy blue silk pool to the floor, bring his naked form flush with Johns, needing to feel his hot flesh against his. John held him at arms length with tears in his eyes, unable to breath past the knot in his throat.  
"It looks worse then it is John. I promise." Ugly dark blue and purple bruises twinged yellow at the edges marred the otherwise pale skin John just shook his head and guided Sherlock down onto the sofa. Knee between his thighs again John hands bracing either side of Sherlocks head, cocks rubbing together seeking each other as they kissed, disparate to find away to get closer, deeper into one another. John dropped feather light kisses on each bruise from head to toe. And whispered words of perfection and love and beauty and promise along curves and hollows, he lingered at the pronounced knob of Sherlocks hip bone sucking and rubbing his rough cheek at the crease of his groin, bumping his cock with his nose, making Sherlock jurk, and suck in a shaky breath. But John didn't want to play the long game dragging out Sherlocks pleasure, knowing he could bring him to his brink and hold him there nearly indefinitely. Tonight he wanted to do nothing but give, and watch Sherlock unfold. John took Sherlocks cock and lavished him with his mouth. He gained his own pleasure from the deep purr that he pulled from Sherlock each time he swolled him to his hilt. The mans hips bucked against his mouth and his hands greedily roamed over Johns shoulders, the back of his neck, up into his hair.  
"Mmmmh. JawnJawnnn." Sherlock tugged at Johns hair wanting to feel lips on his,wanting to breath his air. John seemed to understand the mans every need, and crawled up his body like a hungry predator. Kissing was like being bathed in warm honey, Sherlock could taste himself on Johns lips, and it was sweet beautiful painful madness.  
"I want you, I want you." Their kisses become breaths and nudges, and bites as they spoke over each other's words and lips.  
"I'm yours, I'm certain that I'm yours." John sobered enough to point out the fact that they needed a thing or two to go any further.  
"My dressing gown pocket." Grinning the the Cheshire Cat.  
"Why Mr. Holmes, do you take me for a tart?" John rolled his hip as he spoke, pressing their cocks hard together against Sherlocks quivering belly.  
"I'll take you in me and up to your hilt, now if you please." Sherlock said between ragged gulps of air, grinding his hips up trying to feel more, dying to feel more. John stood to retrieve the dressing gown and was grabbed by the hips and swallowed whole, by plush velvet soft lip.  
"Jesusssss. Holy fuck. Oh my shhhhhah." Johns stomach fluttered, his knees buckle, it felt like Sherlock was pulling him inside out. All the while gazing up at John through sin black lashes, with jewel bright eyes. He sucked his way from base to tip and back again, making deep lustful moans that only made Johns knees weaker still. John felt his back bow and knew that if Sherlock pressed his cock to the back of his throat one more time...John gripped a handful of curls and with gentle force pulled Sherlocks hot divine hot off his cock.  
"You are a bad man Sherlock Holmes." John pushed him down rough with need, wedging himself between Sherlocks thighs and ran his hand along the outside of his thigh from hip bone to knee, where he slipped his thumb in the bend and and pushed back pinning one insane leg nearly to his shoulder opening him like a flower to the sun. Johns slick cock pushed sweetly into the welcoming heat of a lover that wanted more and more and more. Sherlock felt himself fill and fill some more until he thought he would come undone with pleasure. John rocked into him with just enough force to graze his prostate and drive him mad. He found away to tangle both legs around John, pulling him to him into him. Jawn a despite pray on his lip, in his mind, owning his heart.  
"Oh you beautiful thing you. Cum for me. Just for me." Johns voice broke, when Sherlock wrapped his absolute ivory fingers around his cock and pulled himself to a thunderous release, his Adam's apple bobbed wildly in the slender column of his of his throat as Johns names spilled from his too.  
There was noting for it. John had never been so fully lost.  
"Sherr...Sher......Sherlock!"

 

~~~

"I feel that everything between us has been utterly ridiculous up until now so there's no reason for sanity at this point."  
"Ok." John was unsure when this conversation had began since he was just floating back to earth, where Sherlock must have been making plans without him or for him, or them. Whichever he was getting into he knew that he would gladly go to whatever foolhardy place Sherlock wanted him too. John watched Sherlock speak, not hearing a word from those Cupid Bow lips, just enjoying the view. Sherlock was sitting up with his back against the headboard, his curls a disheveled riot, his cheeks and lips still flush, the sheet barley covering the bugle of groin where his black curls peeked out, John realized that his lips where not his only distracting quality.  
"And so it only makes sense. Don't you agree?"  
"Oh, yes love, perfect sense."  
"It's settle then. We're flatmates." Sherlock slid fluidly back down under the sheet, seeking Johns heat and finding more then he'd expected.  
"I didn't know the idea of cohabitation would be so arousing for you doctor." His fingers closed around Johns half hard cock, as he spoke into the curve of his neck.  
"Anything from those lips would be arousing, periodic table of elements, grocery list...SssssshhhShit." John was having trouble being a smart ass, as Sherlock worked his way down over his nipples, clearly headed to more promising grounds.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
